"He sat down by the river-side to meditate."
"Miss Carnegie … I did not know you were here … I thought you were in London," and Carmichael stood before Kate in great confusion.
"Nor did I see you behind that tree"—Kate herself was startled. "Yes, the General and I have been visiting some old friends, and only came home an hour ago.
"Do you know"—Kate was herself again—"the first thing I do on arrival is to make a pilgrimage to this place. Half an hour here banishes the dust of a day's journey and of …
"Besides, I don't know whether you have heard"—Kate spoke hurriedly—"that it is now settled that I … we will be leaving the Lodge soon, and one wants to have as much as possible of the old place in the time remaining."
She gave him this opportunity in kindness, as it seemed, and he reproached himself because he did not offer his congratulations.
"You will, I … the people hope, come often here, Miss Carnegie, and not cast off Drumtochty, although the Lodge be not your home. You will always have a place in the hearts of the Glen. Marjorie will never be grateful enough for your readings," which was bravely said.
"Do you think that I can ever forget the Glen and my … friends here? Not while I live; the Carnegies have their own faults, but ingratitude is not one. Nor the dear Rabbi's grave." Then there was silence, which Carmichael found very trying—they had been so near that day in Kilbogie Manse, with only the Rabbi, who loved them both, between; but now, although they stood face to face, there was a gulf dividing them.
"It may not be easy for me to visit Drumtochty often, for you know there has been a change … in our circumstances, and one must suit oneself to it."
Carmichael flushed uneasily, and Kate supposed that he was sympathising with their losses.